


Jonsa Short Scenes

by th3craft3r



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/th3craft3r/pseuds/th3craft3r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots and short scenes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

> A series of times Sansa was acting strange.

“He’s here,” Sansa said and stood up, dropping the tunic she was embroidering – another gift for her husband.

“Who?” Arya questions as she sheathed Needle in it’s slim scabbard after polishing it.

Sansa stared back at her as she walked to the door with graceful but hurried steps. “Jon.”

Arya’s brow shot up. “How did you know?” she asked and stood up to follow her sister.

Sansa shrugged and merely said, “I can smell him.” then continued on her way.

Arya stopped and stared at Brienne at the other corner of the hall with a look of bewilderment. “She can smell him?” she mouths quietly at the knight. “Has my sister turned into a wolf?”

Brienne offered her an amused smile and they both stared at the door of the audience chamber as it opened and sure as hell, Jon Snow was there. He embraced Sansa and was rewarded with a kiss on his cheek.

* * *

 

They were all gathered around the table for supper and Bran was picking on a bony cut of roasted deer. He was staring at Sansa who was stuffing her mouth full of lemon cakes – one slice after another like she was starved for weeks. Arya stopped eating and was looking at their sister too.

“Sansa dear, you must eat something other than lemon cakes.” Jon cautioned right beside her. The scene amused Bran.

Sansa pouted and slowed down on devouring her favorite treat while Jon added some vegetables and meat on her plate. She crinkled her nose at the venison like the smell of it offended her.

Thinking about it. Bran realized that all her sister ate were lemon cakes for the past few days.

“You’re getting fat.” Arya teased from where she was sitting between Brienne and Ser Davos.

Normally, Sansa would dismiss her teasing with a smile but that time, she glared. “I think I’m done eating,” Sansa said and stood up.

“Hey, I was just joking,” Arya said but their sister stormed off.

“Sansa...” Jon called after her and stood up, meaning to follow but Sansa stopped and circled back, smirking. She snatched a slice of lemon cake and stormed off again.

“What’s wrong with her?” Arya asked as she turned to Bran.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Bran replied with a shrug and went back to eating his meal.

* * *

 

They were snuggled comfortably in bed beneath the furs as the cold wind howled outside their window. A candle was lit by their bedside, giving a glow at Sansa’s cheek who was nestled on his arm. It warms Jon’s heart as he stared at her, resting peacefully. He yawned and closed his eyes. Deciding to get some sleep at last.

He felt Sansa shuffle and thought she was just adjusting her position but then he was surprised as he felt teeth biting his arm. His eyes opened in surprise only to see his wife nipping fondly at his bicep.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sorry,” Sansa muttered with half-opened eyes. “I just have this sudden urge to bite on something.”

Jon looked at her, looking confused. “What?”

“Go to sleep,” Sansa ordered him and so he does... until... “Ow! Sansa!” he yelped as she bit him again.

* * *

 

It was late in the morning and the queen hasn’t come out of her chambers and Brienne was standing guard outside her door. She was alarmed when she heard the retching sound. “Your Grace, are you alright?” the knight asked in alarm. There was no answer, only a groan, and more retching.

Brienne decided to enter the room to check what was happening.

She found the queen bending over a basin and throwing up. Her hair was in disarray and she was still in her night shift.

“What happened, Your Grace?” Brienne asked as she came to her side.

“I’m not feeling well,” Sansa replied as she turned to her – her eyes were puffy and her face was pale.

“Wait here, I will send for Maester Tarly and the King,” Brienne said but Sansa didn’t reply as she turned once again to throw up.

It was a while later when Brienne came back with Sam and a worried-looking Jon. Sansa was back in bed and was sniffling.

“My dear...” Jon knelt at her bedside and clasped her arm. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m quite fine. Just dizzy.” Sansa replied. “Is Ghost here?” she asked.

“He’s at the door. Why?” Jon asked while Sam tended to the queen.

“Please give him a bath,” Sansa said then sneezed. “He reeks,” she added.

* * *

 

Lady Mormont was back for a visit. She had grown a bit taller since the last time they saw her and she was being entertained by Ser Davos and Arya as the King and Queen were indisposed due to the Queen’s health. It’s been two days since she took ill and everyone was worried.

Later that evening, she was well enough to get out of bed and grace Lady Lyanna’s welcome feast with her presence. Everyone was surprised that she was still smiling while looking rather pale. The King was in high spirits too as they welcomed their guest.

A lot of people came up to wish for the queen’s good health and recovery. It was nearing the end of the feast when Lady Mormont approached them once again and offered her gifts – including a special bottle of wine that her cousin Ser Jorah sent.

“Thank you for the gifts, my Lady,” Sansa announced with a smile. “Too bad I cannot partake of the wine,” she added. “I think it would not be best for my health.” she paused then looked at Jon who nodded at her. “... and for the baby.”

A momentary hush settled on the hall. “Baby?” someone whispered. Then all of a sudden cheers erupted and the revelry commenced once again.

Ghost, who was already given a bath settled at their feet and nudged at Sansa’s ankles.

“So, that’s why you’re cranky.” Arya chides as she came up to congratulate them.

“I’ve known,” Bran said nonchalantly and nobody asked how he did because it was a given fact that he knows things.

 


	2. "Come to Bed"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa struggles to get a drunk Jon to bed.

It was supposed to be an innocent offhand statement but it didn’t sound that way - at least to Arya and Bran who was giving her odd looks.

 _“Let’s go. Come to bed.”_ Her words echoed in her mind and the statement that followed when she realized that the words were somewhat scandalous - it sounded like she was inviting him to share a bed. _“I mean, I’ll accompany you to your chambers,”_ she added as a drunk Jon was slumped on the table together with Tormund and Ser Davos.

She tugged at his tunic then, willing him to stand up. She was rewarded with a groan and Jon stood up wobbly, only to fall once more but she caught him - his head slumping on her chest. That made the scene even more awkward and Arya was holding back a laugh. It was compounded when his roaming fingers were trying to cup a feel. Sansa’s cheeks reddened as she swatted his wandering hands away.

“Can you give me a hand here?” Sansa asked her sister but the latter just shrugged and sauntered off, unable to contain her laughter any longer. Bran, cripple as he was couldn’t obviously help her and Brienne and Podrick were still due to return from an errand at White Harbor.

“You can do it.” Bran encouraged with a smirk as he patted Ghost’s head who was sitting beside him.

Sansa sighed and looped her arms around Jon’s waist and settling his left arm over her shoulders. He was heavy and Sansa strained from the weight as they tried to ascend the steps that led to the Lord’s Chamber. They stumbled along the way. It was the first time that she saw him that drunk. He hasn't joined them during supper either and she was worried.

At last, they were able to reach the top of the stairs and then on to his chambers next to hers.

Sansa was maneuvering to lay him gently on top of the furs when suddenly, she was outbalanced and Jon’s full weight dragged her along and she was essentially pinned under him as they fell into the bed. His head was on her neck and she can smell the ale on his breath along its warmth as he exhaled against her skin. For some reason, they stayed that way. Sansa didn’t move while Jon laid on top of her. Her right hand was free and it was her fingers that wandered between the tangles of his hair. Jon was murmuring some incoherent words but one escaped his lips that were clear enough for Sansas ears - her name.

Arya poked her head around the door and cleared her throat.

The sound surprised Sansa and she hurriedly untangled herself from Jon. For some reason, she felt that she should explain. “We uh, fell,” she told her sister, not meeting her eyes.

Arya creased her brows then grinned. “Yeah, you did.”


	3. Time Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran goes to the future

History had already been written and the ink already dried, therefore it cannot be changed. That’s what Bran realized as he traveled in his visions. The future, however, is another matter - it is a story waiting to be written with so many possibilities.

The future. That is where he found himself after an accident while he was doing ‘something.’

He was inside a room. It was the Lord’s chamber at Winterfell and he was standing by the doorway. It was very different from what he remembered when he was young. There were new tapestries hanging on the walls, some of it bearing the sigil of his House. A new rug was positioned right in front of the hearth where a mild fire was blazing, giving the atmosphere a serene glow. There was a lady sitting in a rocking chair by the window, her back to him. For a moment he thought it was her mother for her hair was the same auburn and she was singing a lullaby that sounded familiar.

He was about to approach her when the chamber door opened. A man in a black cloak walked - he was covered in furs. _“Father?”_ Bran wondered as the man walked past him on his way to the woman sitting by the window. _“No. Father didn’t have a scar on his face. And he is already dead.”_ Bran thought.

“My love.” The lady greeted the man as he bent down to kiss her. He looked adoringly at something on her lap and Bran got curious so he decided to check what it was.

He walked past a bassinet on his way to them and there was a doll inside. “ _A baby.”_ he realized and his suspicion was confirmed when he reached them. And then he saw her - his sister. _“Sansa?”_

She was cooing at the bundle who was nursing at her breast. Bran had to look away as he stared at the man again. He was smiling down at his sister and Bran recognized him. _“Jon?”_

He looked so much like Father. “How is she?” Jon asked Sansa.

“Her fever have gone away. Thank the gods,” she replied as she looked up at him with a smile.

Bran was confused. He was looking at Sansa who was cradling a baby but what is Jon doing there? Why did she call him ‘My Love?’ He knows that he was truly their cousin but the thought of Sansa and Jon together had never crossed his mind once. They were the least close of all people when they were young and now they were looking at each other with adoring eyes.

The idea on his head was confirmed when a boy barged into the room, followed by a girl - both looked like an exact replica of Sansa, save for their curly hair that was dark.

“Mother look what I found!” the girl called out excitedly as she presented a flower to Sansa.

“That’s beautiful, Lya.” Sansa told her as she accepted the blue winter rose and kissed the girl’s cheek.

“We missed you, Father.” the boy said as he embraced Jon. “Can we go with you next time when you visit Uncle Bran?”

“Please, Father!” Lya agreed.

“That is up to your mother,” Jon replied as he smiled back at Sansa.

“Of course, we will go Rob.” she told the boy. “As soon as Summer is truly well.”

 _“She named her baby after my direwolf?”_ Bran thought and suddenly felt sad as he remembered what happened to his wolf.

* * *

 

Bran’s thoughts were spinning. He knows that what he just saw was just one of the possibilities but still... “What the hell?” he shouted and found Meera glaring down at him.

“Yeah, really… what the hell indeed.” Meera told him. She had her arms crossed and she looked really mad. “Who goes time traveling while making out?” she yelled her question. “Next time, you find the courage to kiss me, I’m not doing it near a bloody weirwood tree!” then she stormed off, leaving Bran to look up at the tree that he accidentally touched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are very much appreciated. :)


	4. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was hers since the first time she called her “Mother.”

A joyful smile slowly graced her face as she watched the girl ran while Ghost chased her around the weirwood tree. Her honey-blonde ringlets swaying in the wind as the summer snows melted before it reached the ground.

Sarra. She was her daughter in every way but blood. Sansa sighed as she recalled the first time she arrived.

* * *

 

_She had stayed behind at Winterfell as per her King and cousin’s wish while he rode off to war, unsure if he will ever return to her. She was so desperate for any news that she sent ravens every other day but she seldom got a reply which made her all the more worried. After a year, she heard the news, but it wasn’t what she expected. A band of wildling refugees had fled to shelter at Winterfell and with them, was the princess - Jon’s daughter._

_She accepted the child with trembling hands and a pained heart. She couldn’t help but feel betrayed yet again. However, Jon was not hers in the first place - regardless of whatever affection she held for him. For a moment she understood how her mother must’ve felt when she saw Jon for the first time. Sansa wanted to hate the child but she couldn’t. She realized that Jon deserved some shred of happiness and maybe that happiness was that child and the mother. But no, the mother had died - another fallen victim of the long night. She heard about her too. The one they called the Wildling princess._

_Sansa raised the child as her own while Jon was still off fighting an uncertain war. It was she who named the baby - who made her dresses with direwolves in it or rocked her to sleep at night and stopped her from crying - who snuggled with that little bundle of joy during cold nights and shared stories with in front of the hearth._

_She was her daughter the moment she decided to love her. She was hers since the first time she called her “Mother.” and many times after that. And Sansa was glad she made the right decision of accepting the motherless child into her heart for it healed her and filled her with so much joy._

* * *

 

She’s seven now and the war with the Others had been long over with so many casualties and damages that are just starting to mend.

“Mother! Come play with us!” Sarra was looking up at her and tugging at her cloak. Her dark eyes, pleading.

“Sorry my love, but I can’t,” Sansa replied and bent down to kiss the girl’s forehead before smoothing her unruly hair down. “Besides, it is almost time for lunch so let us go back inside.”

“But mother, I still want to play with Ghost.” Sarra begged and pouted.

“We’ll play again later, I promise,” Sansa told her. “And I heard they’re serving lemon cakes.” And at that last statement, Sarra’s eyes brightened and she grinned up at her.

They were about to enter the keep when the horns sounded.

“They’re back!” Sarra exclaimed excitedly as she gently tugged at her ‘mother’ over to the courtyard just in time to welcome the King.

Jon dismounted and ran towards them. Sarra ran into his arms and he swung her around, eliciting a fit of giggles from the little girl - much to the delight of everyone around.

“I missed you, Father!” Sarra said before planting a kiss on Jon’s cheek.

“I missed you too, my love,” Jon whispered back and kissed her cheek in return. “You haven’t been giving your mother a hard time, have you?” he asked as he held her.

Sarra shook her head.

“She’s been a very good little lady,” Sansa interjects as she came to them, smiling widely. “How’s everyone doing in King’s Landing?”

“They’re fine. Although I can’t wait to get out of there and be back here with you.” Jon replied and put Sarra down. “I miss you so much.” He whispered in Sansa’s ears then kissed her lips before bending down “And I missed you too.” he said as he placed a kiss on top of her growing belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how was it???


	5. Language!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have an issue to discuss and Lady Mormont gets excited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Plotless Fluff. Sorry, It was supposed to be serious but oh well...

The solar was warmed from the blazing fire from the hearth despite the continued torrent of snow that has yet to abate. Jon was standing by the window, overlooking the fields below blanketed by snow. He let out a sigh and his breath misted in the air as he looked back at his closest advisers who were gathered around a table.

Arya, wearing a leather jerkin and boots was cleaning her fingers with a dagger’s tip. Next to her sat the young Lord Cerwyn, looking solemn. Lord Glover looked impatient in his seat next to Tormund who was drowning himself in fermented goat’s milk. Ser Davos maintained a calm demeanor while rubbing his phantom fingers and next to him sat the little Lady Mormont who looked agitated, in contrast with Lord Manderly who was fiddling with his mustache.

The war had been over as they had defeated the Others with the help of the Dragon Queen who granted the North independence and now ruled in the South. Their priority now was rebuilding and maintaining the stability in the Kingdom and essentially, it came to a point to discuss the line of succession. Bran had declined to be the heir and it’s been five years and the King is still unmarried, neither has the Lady Sansa and absolutely not Arya as well and it caused some concern among the Northern Lords.

The doors opened and the Lady of the castle walked in accompanied by Lady Brienne and Lord Howland Reed immediately filled the empty seats. Sansa went over to the head of the table and Jon pulled a chair for her before he sat.

“I apologize for being late My Lords,” Sansa said. “My Lady.” she nodded at Lady Mormont’s direction.

“Took you long enough.” Arya quipped without looking at her sister. “Been having your evening ‘walks’ again last night?” she asked with amusement. Sansa shot her a glare and shushed her.

“Your Grace, we are here because we are worried about the line of succession.” Lord Manderly started. Jon expected that at some point he’ll make a subtle mention of his own granddaughters. “Most of the Northern houses and lands have been through with the rebuilding so we deemed that it is time to think about the stability of House Stark.”

“Cut the fucking crap Lord Manderly and don’t prolong this conversation.” Lady Mormont surprisingly interjected as she stood up. Sansa winced from her words. “We are here because we are expecting an heir to the throne.”

At that, Arya snorted. Sansa reddened while Jon maintained a straight face.

“We already know that Prince Brandon had declined and you being a Stark only on your mother’s side, the next would be Lady Sansa if you won’t have any heirs in regards to that I would like to ask...” Lord Cerwyn was saying but Jon cut him off.

“You’re saying that you’d like to ask for her hand in marriage?” Jon asked and the man’s face reddened like a tomato, unable to utter another word. “I’m sorry Lord Cerwyn, the Lady Sansa is already promised to another.” the King added which garnered some surprised looks from around the table, aside from Tormund who had contented himself at giving the Lady Brienne some suggestive looks and wasn't really paying any attention to what was happening.

“To whom?” Lady Mormont was on her feet, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Jon and I talked about it last night...” Sansa began. “Knew it.” Arya injected with disinterest. The King laughed which earned him a questioning look from Sansa.

“What?” Jon asked as his mirth was cut short.

Sansa stood up. “What’s so funny?” she asked. Everyone tensed. Except for Arya... and Tormund.

“I’m sorry, I just remembered about last night,” Jon said and Sansa went red as an apple and looked away, clearly embarrassed. “This is not the proper time to talk about it.” She hissed.

“So, you fell off the bed while kissing. Big deal.” Arya said nonchalantly. Everyone was more confused.

“Arya! How did you...” Jon was about to ask but he was cut off by Lady Mormont’s thrilling voice. “Oh fuck the Old gods! They’re already married!” she exclaimed and gestured towards Jon and Sansa. “Are you?”

“No, we’re not.” Sansa was quick to answer and there was a moment of awkward silence. “Yet,” she added shyly. Another moment of silence.

“I can agree to that.” Lord Glover said. "As I've said, I would stand behind you, Jon Snow."

“Aye. I think it’s better that way.” Lord Manderly concurred and so did Lord Cerwyn.

“Finally.” Ser Davos sighed and Lord Reed gave them an approving nod.

“What happened?” Tormund who up to that point was still focused on Brienne asked Davos.

“Weren’t you listening?” Lady Mormont butt in. “The King and Lady Sansa are getting married. Let them ring the castle bells!” she said excitedly. “My Lords, come, we have a fucking wedding to plan! Lord Manderly, you're in charge of the food of course. Lord Glover, security. Lord Cerwyn, decorations. Ser Davos... hmmm onions! Damn people, hustle up! This shit's not planning itself!”

Sansa leaned over and whispered in Jon’s ear, “We are not fostering our children in Bear Island.”

“Why not?” Jon asked, perplexed.

“Do you want our children to talk that way?” Sansa inquired and Jon just smirked and gave her lips a proper kiss. Arya made some puking noises.


	6. Dragon Seed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It baffles me why these wolves can tame dragons."

The Dragon Queen looked out from one of the balconies of the Red Keep which had a clear view of Blackwater Bay. Ships were sailing about, clearing the last traces of battles that occurred there. They had taken a brief pause discussing a very important matter that would decide the future of the realm and she had to escape to the balcony to calm her nerves and gather her thoughts. The negotiations with the Northern delegation was going nowhere.

Speaking of the Northern delegation, she spied the current Lady of Winterfell at the garden a few floors below from the balcony where she was standing. Lady Sansa was dressed in heavy fur cloaks despite the warm weather. Trailing just behind her was Jon Snow’s direwolf and not far off was Rhaegal, coiling his tail and following the lady with its golden eyes. That could only mean one thing, the King in the North was nearby.

It puzzled Dany at first that one of her children had taken a liking to this Jon Snow. She discovered the reason why only after the war with the White Walkers was done. The man that was formerly thought to be Eddard Stark’s bastard was, in fact, her own nephew. She’s been afraid that she was the last of her line in the world so the newfound news both delighted and threatened her for he had a stronger claim to the throne than hers. However, her fears were negated when he promptly refused the throne.

There was still the matter of the North’s independence, though - the subject of their current council. The negotiations were dragging on for hours without a clear agreement much to her frustration.

Down below, Dany heard a scream - only to discover that Rhaegal had arisen and had approached Sansa Stark. The direwolf stood between her and the dragon. Dany could sense that there was no threat from Rhaegal. It was more of a curiosity. But nonetheless, she called to the dragon. The beast only spared his mother a glance then resumed its watchful interest at the northern lady.

Tyrion joined his queen on the balcony, followed by the still hale Olenna Tyrell. The three of them looked down below where Jon Snow had joined his cousin and was murmuring to Rhaegal.

“It baffles me why these wolves can tame dragons,” Daenerys remarked with a worried frown as she kept a watchful eye at the dragon, the direwolf, his nephew and his cousin below.

Tyrion stared at her. “It’s only natural I should say. He has the blood of the dragon.” He told the queen like it was the most obvious thing in the world then drained his glass of wine.

Daenerys spared her Hand an irritated stare. “I am not worried about Jon Snow.” The queen replied. “I am talking about her,” she added while pointing a graceful finger at the redhead below who was at the process of petting Rhaegal. “I can understand why Rhaegal bonded with Jon but why is it having an interest in the Stark girl too?” the queen wondered aloud.

Tyrion looked at her with skepticism while the Queen of Thorns merely smiled like she knew a secret the rest are not privy to. “How do you know Rhaegal is interested in my former wife, Your Grace?” Tyrion inquired.

“I just can feel it,” Daenerys answered. “She has no blood of the Dragon but Rhaegal seemed to obey her.”

“Oh, how daft the two of you can be?” Lady Olenna admonished with an intrigued smile. “She has no blood of the dragon but maybe she is carrying one,” she stated.

“You don’t mean that she’s...” Tyrion began.

“I have seen too many years and been with too many pregnant women. The girl is wearing heavy furs despite the heat which leads one to wonder if she is trying to conceal something?” the Tyrell added.

“And you think that my nephew is the father?” the queen asked. “But they are cousins!”

“You can’t really judge,” Tyrion said. “Your House has a tradition of intermarrying if I recall.”

“As well as yours.” Dany shot back with a smirk.

“Our Lady Stark already has that King in the North on a leash.” Lady Olenna commented. “It is as you said, these wolves know how to tame dragons,” she added when the queen stared at her pointedly.

“Maybe that’s why Jon Snow had been adamant to refuse all marriage proposals.” Tyrion mused as the three of them continued to stare below where The King in the North and The Lady of Winterfell were talking animatedly - and Sansa’s hands would occasionally stroke protectively over her belly.

“Your Grace, if I may offer some fresh news.” Lord Varys supplied. He seemed to have appeared from nowhere which startled the other three. “My little birds told me a very intriguing piece of information.” then he paused.

“Which is?” Dany asked, almost annoyed at the pause.

“They sing about a marriage that had taken place in Winterfell recently.” He started, clasping his powdery hands. “And Lady Olenna is right about her suspicions.”

The other three looked at each other. “Come now, reconvene the council. It seems that there will be another Targaryen before the year is out. I’m thinking of making him or her my heir presumptive.” the queen commanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since I posted here :) how was it? comments would be appreciated.


	7. Call the Banners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Call the banners."

It seems that every time that he opened his eyes, it was like he stumbled into another dream. And yet, the warmth of flesh that cuddled beside him under the thick furs was all too real. Naked as their name day. The milky white freckled shoulders peeking out and fiery red strands of hair splayed all over their pillows.

A contented smile graced his face as he listened to her even and calm breathing. She shifted and burrowed her face into the crook of his neck. He, in turn, embraced her even tighter until he fell asleep once more.

The next time he opened his eyes, Sansa was already dressed and was sitting next to him in bed.

“Good morning.” he greeted as he rubbed his eyes.

His wife smiled and leaned over. “Good morning, my love,” she replied after giving him a kiss - her blue eyes, looked submissive.

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you want this time?” he questioned - his head propped on one arm.

Sansa grinned. He knows her too well. “Do you want to go at it again?” he hinted and raised his brow suggestively. Even though they had aged, they were still vigorous in doing some things.

“Not that, you silly!” Sansa replied with reddened cheeks as she patted his arm. “Our daughter’s sixth name day is getting close and I want to do something.”

“What is it?” Jon asked as he ran his fingers through his wife’s hair.

“Well...” Sansa trailed and rested her head on Jon’s shoulder. “I was thinking of holding a tourney in her honor.”

Jon considered it for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be expensive?” Being King and Queen meant that they have all the North to look after other than their family.

“I already thought about it.” Sansa began. “I consulted maester Wolkan and he informed me that we have more than enough supplies for the celebration. Besides, by announcing it to the whole kingdom, many people will come - which means Winter Town will be bustling with trade.”

The King smiled and gifted her a kiss on her cheek. “It seems that you already thought this through.” He replied.

“Please say yes?” Sansa pleaded - planting a kiss on his neck, then another. That earned a chuckle from Jon. “Alright, alright you know I can’t say no to our little wolf and to you,” he said then cupped her face before giving her a long kiss on her lips.

When they pulled apart, Sansa untangled herself from her husband. “It’s settled then.” She grinned. “Now, get up my love. We have duties to attend to.”

“But I’m still sleepy.” Jon yawned. “Come to bed.”

Sansa shook her head then settled her hands on her hips. “What?” Her husband looked up at her. “Jon...” she warned.

“Okay. But you owe me.” Jon teased as he got out of bed, in all his nakedness. Sansa appraised him approvingly. “You can do whatever you want with me tonight,” she replied and gave him a sultry look while he dressed and she waited.

 

* * *

 

They were busy discussing the upcoming tourney when all of a sudden, the door of the Council Chamber burst open and their youngest daughter ran straight to the head of the table where her parents were sitting together. Her black cloak emblazoned with a direwolf was trailing in the wind.

“What’s wrong my little wolf?” Sansa worriedly asked as she embraced her crying daughter. The little girl continued to sob against her chest, much to the worry of everyone around the room.

“Lya my dear, what happened?” her father asked.

The sobbing died down and the little girl transferred to her father’s arms. Jon cradled her on his lap. “Now, tell us why are you crying?” Jon asked again.

The soon to be six years old looked up at him with blue steely eyes full of determination. “Father, call the banners,” she announced with such conviction a little girl can muster.

The statement made everyone around the room chuckle. “What?” Sansa inquired as she reached out to fix her daughter’s hair that covered her face.

“Maester said that you have the power to call on everyone when there’s war.” the little girl replied.

“Ah, I see.” Jon stared at his daughter who looked like a miniature version of Sansa, including the freckles on her nose and the glint in her eyes plus her fiery red hair.

“Been listening in on your brother’s lessons have you?” Sansa asked to which the little girl nodded proudly.

“But my sweet child, we are at peace. Now tell me why you want to summon all the Lords and their armies.” Jon asked as he smiled down at his daughter, indulging her.

“I am at war!” the little girl exclaimed. “Styg told me that I look like a White Walker because I have blue eyes. Now, he’s my enemy!” she declared.

Everyone in the room laughed including the King and Queen at their princess’ predicament.

“Har!” Tormund bellowed. “That grandson of mine is certainly a handful.”

“I am sure Styg was just jesting,” Jon explained. “Besides, you don’t look like a White Walker at all. You look very pretty just like your mother.” At that, Lya beamed at her father, showing dimples on either cheek.

“Now come here my little wolf,” Sansa said with outstretched arms as Jon gave her the little girl. “We are planning the celebrations for your name day right now.” She told her after she settled on her lap.

“Really?” Lya asked, looking all excited. “Will there be knights and princesses? Will grandma Dany be here with her dragons?”

Both Jon and Sansa suppressed a laugh. “Yes, there will be knights but you would be the princess. And I’ll make sure that your grandmother will be invited.” Jon answered. “She will come with her dragons for sure, knowing how she dotes on you and your brothers.

“Now, let us go and find your brothers and see if there are lemon cakes in the kitchen,” Sansa said as she carried Lya on her arms. “I trust you can manage here without me?” she stared at Jon before heading out on the Council Chamber.

“Hey! This was all your idea!” the King called after them then shook his head as Sansa’s laughter rang in reply. “Now I want to call the banners,” Jon mumbled.


	8. Sights and Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lucid dreaming and sleep talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Casema and everybody else who left comments on my JonSa works.

Arya had been to many places and had heard much weird and horrible stuff but the things she heard the previous night will forever haunt her mind.

Currently, they are in the dining hall together with her true-born siblings and Jon. Sansa is sitting across her with red and embarrassed cheeks. She is looking shyly away from the rest. To Arya’s left, Bran is sitting - looking weirdly at Jon right across him next to Sansa.

There is tension in the air. Sansa stops fidgeting in her seat and decides to pick on a slice of venison on her plate. Jon, on the other hand, is on his third cup of what looks like fermented goat’s milk.

“So...” Arya trails off. “Any of you care to explain?” she asks and neither her sister nor Jon can look her in the eye.

The matter at hand is about what happened the night before.

As the four were finally reunited, they had huddled together in the Lord’s Chamber in front of the roaring fire from the hearth. Bran had just recently returned and Arya had ‘revealed’ her face not long after much to the overwhelming joy of both Jon and Sansa.

They had shared their respective stories through a lot of tears, cursing, and promises. When all the tales were done, Sansa dragged Arya off to the adjoining chamber to rest. Bran, on the other hand, was given the spacious bed on the Lord’s Chamber while Jon settled on a cot nearby.

Sansa had fallen asleep first while Arya had tossed and turned beside her. She finally settled, cuddling against her sister to fight off the cold and to assure herself that she was real. When sleep finally came to her, she fell into a dreamless slumber.

It was well before dawn when Arya was awoken by a sound that had since been ingrained into her mind no matter how hard she tried to forget it. The said sound was emanating from her Sister.

“Aaaahhmmm...” Sansa moaned. “Oh gods...” she continued. Arya sat up in alarm and looked at her sister with a worried face. Sansa’s eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted.

“Oh yes...” Sansa mumbled. “Is she talking in her sleep?” Arya wondered and rubbed the drowsiness from her eyes to observe Sansa. “Yes... that’s it.” the elder continued. “Faster... I want you so bad...” Arya’s right brow arched up. “Aaaahhh.… Umm...” Sansa whimpered. Her voice hoarse.

“What the hell?” Arya snickered. Her sister was having wet dreams.

“Oh, gods... You’re such a beast, Jon Snow...” Sansa wheezed and she went slack.

Arya’s world suddenly went upside down. She blinked twice and tried to make sure if what she heard was right. “Oh, Jon... I love you...” Sansa mumbled. After a moment of stillness, Arya grabbed her pillow and slammed it into Sansa’s sleeping face. “You filthy pig!” Arya cursed as Sansa was jolted from her sleep.

 

Bran had seen some weird things from both the present and the past and had envisioned some troubling events from the future thanks to his gift. It was nearing dawn when he was awoken by a loud grunt. He tried to rub off the sleep from his eyes and strained to see in the darkness. When his eyesight had adjusted well enough, He found... Or rather heard Jon mumbling from where he was sleeping in a cot not far away from where Bran was.

“Hold still...” Jon said. “Gods... You’re so wet... And tight.” he continued. That got Bran’s full attention. Bran stifled a laugh as Jon grunted and rolled over, facing his direction.

“Fuck... You’re so beautiful...” Jon continued. “Oh, Sansa...” Jon trailed off - his toes curling, Bran observed. “I love you so much...” she finished.

Granted, Bran had already foreseen a possible future for Sansa and their brother - no.… He’s their cousin, he really needs to tell them as soon as possible. However, he really didn't need to hear what he just heard and witnessed.

“Jon!” Bran yelled. “Jon!” he tried again when there was no response. And then, Arya’s voice emanated from the adjoining chamber. “You filthy pig!”

Bran got hold of a pillow and thankfully his aim was not off. Jon bolted and scanned the room. “Instincts.” Bran thought. “Arya screamed,” Bran said when Jon’s eyes found him. Jon gave him a nod and barged in into the other room.

 

* * *

 

The moment Jon barged in into their chamber, Sansa was trying to fend off Arya from smacking her with another pillow. Her face was completely bewildered.

Arya stopped mid-swing and turned to Jon. “Oh good, get Bran. We need to talk.”

That was why they found themselves at the dining hall very early in the morning as Arya and Bran explained what they unfortunately heard and saw.

Bran clears his throat. “Why were you two fucking each other in your dreams?” Arya deadpans and both Jon and Sansa both goes beet-red. “Do you realize how that sounds like.

“I think we can all agree and understand how it ‘sounded’” Bran adds amusingly causing Jon to choke on the goat’s milk and for Sansa to scoot away and glared at both her younger siblings.

“Arya it’s fine,” Bran says, sparing his elder sister a glance.

“No, it is not fine!” Arya fumes, glaring daggers at the other three.

“Arya, it is not what you think.” Jon starts. “And we didn’t actually do ‘it’” Sansa adds, rather bashfully.

“Even if you both did, it’s fine by me. As long as you keep it to yourselves.” Bran pipes up. Both Jon and Sansa looks at him questioningly.

Arya looks ready to skin someone alive. “Bran! How could you say that!” she yelled and threw her hands up in the air.

“Well...” Bran trails off. “Technically, Jon is really our cousin. That’s another piece of information I had to share,” he adds like it was a well-known fact.

“He’s what now?” Sansa erupts looking rather suspiciously hopeful and less guilty. Then they all break into a different kind of argument and curses as Bran relays his knowledge.


End file.
